


Your World Ends With Her(The Rest Move On)

by valiantprincex



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:00:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantprincex/pseuds/valiantprincex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cophine.<br/>Inspired kind of by <a href="cosima-phdhaus.tumblr.com/post/95856198722/oh-god-but-what-if-cosima-kept-one-of-the-bottles">this post</a> and <a class="tumblelog">the-artificem</a> but mostly because I'm evil and have no soul. </p><p>       <em> Her last minutes flow like quicksilver, her body jerking in wild spasms, her throat a tunnel of thorns.</em></p><p>   <em>        Her last hours drag on for an eternity - torture almost - her heart pulsing erratically like a cornered breast with nowhere to run.</em></p><p>  <em>         Her last days are a haze, mixing, melding into each other; each second the same as the one before.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Your World Ends With Her(The Rest Move On)

        Cosima dies with the sunset -  her last breath tasting the cool night air three ticks after the sun is sucked from the sky - it’s golden halo still visible above the line of trees.. 

                Cosima dies with a cough, the small amount of blood left in her body splattering across the dirt like shooting stars.

                        Cosima dies in pain as her lungs ache for air that will never come.

                                Cosima dies in an instant; the sudden stop to a lonely prayer.

                                        Cosima dies.

Delphine lives.

* * *

        Her last minutes flow like quicksilver, her body jerking in wild spasms, her throat a tunnel of thorns. 

       Her last hours drag on for an eternity - torture almost - her heart pulsing erratically like a cornered breast with nowhere to run. 

        Her last days are a haze, mixing, melding into each other; each second the same as the one before. 

        Her last months: futile. 

        Her last years: gone.

Just like her.

        The sun fades from the sky like a broken promise.

* * *

        Cosima’s smile breaks like the dawn and Delphine thinks, ludicrously,  she can see jesus in that smile. She’s never been religious - but Cosima’s smile is too temporary to dismiss. The bed is soft beneath them and the needle sinks into Cosima’s arm with a gasp - the blood dripping out like a prayer.

        She's not    ready.  When Cosima's voice shook in her confession she knew; Delphine hates herself for it, but in that moment of confession her heart broke, shattered into a million tiny shards digging directly into her soul. Pictures flash through her mind: forms, video diaries, lab reports, polyps. Names. 

        Deaths.

        She's not   ready, yet she smiles and gives what she can: hope. 

       A promise.

        It's futile. She know it is.

It's all she has.

* * *

        There is something dark and savage in the blood that drips from Coisma's mouth and Delphine is compelled to lean closer, kiss her harder. It is, after all, only a matter of time until those lips are gone forever and - but Delphine doesn’t think of that, not now, especially as Cosima pushes her away with a devilish grin. 

        Her laugh is raspy, tainted and they tumble together onto the mattress, their smiles meeting again in a kiss that burns like fire. Delphine thinks of test results, of blood samples, of the tick-tick-tick time bomb that lies spread underneath her. Lips meet warm skin as Delphine rains kisses down on her warm flank, Cosima’s fingers weaving rough patterns into her hair. 

        With a kiss she feels it: the herald of disaster, and again blood taints the sheets. Cosima rolls over, curling into herself as her body is racked again with a heavy storm. Delphine comes up to her, wrapping her body around Cosima’s like a blanket - her head nuzzles into Cosima’s neck as the earthquake rips through her body, soul.

* * *

        Delphine has ceased to sleep, to sleep would be to lose rapidly shortening time and so she sits by Cosima, with Cosima; hands tightening around hers, grounding her even as lucidity slips away.

        Gone.

        She refuses to think of it - Cosima wants her to,  _wanted_ her to - she refuses to think of  _gone_ even as Cosima jerks and convulses in the night, mumbles hurried, nonsensical statements in the day. She grounds Cosima, grounds herself; with each passing hour trying to find some remnant left of Cosima in the body that grasps her hand like a lifeline.

        Gone.

        She is afraid, deathly afraid and as (seconds) (hours) (months) time slips by she checks Cosima’s pulse obsessively, almost as if she could stop the flow of time with her scrambling fingers.

        She can’t.

* * *

        Delphine’s silent screams rip through the silent night; echoing silent through the trees as the earth spins with this silent resolution. 

        Yet the world moves on, it must, spinning in endless cycles, the day returning again and again in some cruel mockery of human mortality. The earth moves on yet at the return of day Delphine remains unmoving in silent protest of this indifference.

        She remains like this for (hours) (days) an eternity, slumped on the dirt - her arms wrapped still ( _still_ ) around Cosima. 

        _Her_ Cosima

* * *

  
  


        Delphine stands after what seems like a millenium, Cosima - _Cosima’s_ _body_ \- couldn’t stay here, not here. Her back creaks like rusted metal, Cosima’s last breath a dark red slash across her shirt.

        She picks her up, the dead ( _dead_ ) weight pulling at her arms - a heavy burden. She leaves Cosima in the bed, the windows open. DYAD would take her, Delphine knew, and resisting them - well she had already failed enough, hasn't she.

        She leaves Cosima, her already shattered heart ripping anew, driving with no destination; her knuckles white against the steering wheel. Delphine stops, finally: an old worn down building, never finished, the concrete warm in the afternoon sun. 

        The lighter clicks in some sort of final sentence - punishment - the smoke clogging her lungs: choking her. Cosima couldn’t breathe in her final moments, final days, Cosima couldn’t breathe and this was a punishment to fit the crime.

        The cigarettes disappear like Cosima’s last months, slipping like liquid one after another till there is simply nothing left to give.

  
  


* * *

        Delphine is alone. She is alone because Cosima,  her  Cosima is dead and the others are alive. She can’t face them, display all the broken promises that she carries like a chain. She knows it’s only a matter of time until the rest join (Katja) (Jennifer) the dead. ( Cosima .)

        She lives like a ghost, DYAD isn’t looking for her and the others are too caught up in the present; here she is with her mind in the past. Her fingers shake on the cigarettes, she avoids the stares - judgement. Cosima couldn’t breathe.  Cosima _couldn’t breathe_ . Delphine coughs at night now, a hacking, grating shudder as the packs one by one go up in smoke.

        She has nowhere to go. 

        Science, science has failed her, science, eugenics - i _s that a dirty word dirty word dirty word dirty word_  -  Cosima is gone.

        Gone.

                Gone.

                        Gone.

_Gone_.

* * *

        She finds it in the box of Cosima’s things, thrown hastily into the trunk with her departure. 

        She didn’t open it at first, the pain was unbearable enough as it is and yet it weighed in the back of her mind like a ghost. 

_Cosima_.

        The night is dark, the stars just glimmers in the darkness. Delphine is tired, throat a web of barbs and fingers trembling. Delphine is tired and after too many glasses of cheap wine her cheeks are flushed and her broken laughter echoes in the empty night. Delphine is tired and after too many wrong turns and dead ends she finds her fingers peeling off the tape, fumbling with the worn out cardboard.

        Her hands hits cool glass and she pulls it out, the dark shiny bottle cooling her hand. Her finger bleeds: a paper cut, the buzzing in her head dulling the pain. A part of her says stop. A part of her wants to throw it away, tear it into pieces - but she’s already crying, isn’t she?

        The letter has her name written in looping script. 

_Delphine_.

        Her fingers fumble with the envelope, ripping it in all the wrong ways, though still careful to leave her name untouched. She rips it open with one last shot of liquid courage and-

        The sun hit her like a shotgun blast, her head a throbbing mess. She lies on the ground, surrounded by an empty room, an empty house. The  aloneness  strikes her like ice cold water, her hangover bringing sudden clarity.

        She remembers.

        Delphine scrambles for the letter, heart pounding for the first time since Cosima’s…

        _Death._

                _Cosima's_ death .

                        _Cosima's death._

Cosima is _dead_.

        She starts laughing, a hacking, joyful sound: the breaking of a dam. She picks the note off the floor, carefully pocketing the envelope before reading. Her eyes sparkle at Cosima’s curving script, her words etched lovingly into the faded paper. Delphine eyes the wine bottle, the label and - Oh. 

        _Oh_ **.**

        A smile pulls at her lips, the memory of falling snow, a hand wrapped around hers. 

        Bikes. 

        Now, where could she find some bikes?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. [Here are some puppies.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0wiy7KrJzM)


End file.
